


Harvest Festival

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Off-World, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 16:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: The team gets caught up in another off-world harvest festival.





	Harvest Festival

John nudged Rodney in the shoulder a little less gently than he had two minutes ago. "Hurry it up, McKay. If we don't make it back to the gate in the next fifteen minutes we're going to be stuck here."

"Yes yes, and remind to me tear Radek a new one for ham-handedly scheduling the weekly gate maintenance while we're off-world." Rodney pulled another book off the dusty shelf and sneezed. 

Any other time John would expect a bevy of complaints from McKay about his dust allergies, the deterioration of the books, the lack of a database, whether Carson expected him to go to the infirmary when they got back due to a mold-induced rash and did John think Carson still had that fungal cream?

He didn't have to look at his teammates to know that Ronon and Teyla were quickly becoming just as antsy as he felt. They'd all hoped this place would lead them to the location of a ZPM the way its sister library on Dagan had. So far, it was a bust.

He checked his watch and grimaced. They needed to get out of here before the beginning of the festival. John might skim over some reports but Lorne had flagged the Icarian native harvest ritual as one to pay special attention to. He'd even attached a sticky note to the paragraph that began _All male dancing_ and he'd underlined the word _inclusive_ in red. John didn't need to be told twice to know what that meant. 

Just thinking about it made him wince. The Icarians made a big deal out of their fertility dances and if they ended up stuck here…. He poked Rodney again. "McKay, pack it up!"

Rodney glared back at him, but he started to put his things in order. Not gracefully, mind you, and John had to listen to Rodney mutter dire threats under his breath the entire time. 

Ronon began switching his blaster back and forth between stun and kill. A clear sign that he wasn't happy with the delay. Teyla's normally calm expression had turned pensive. Which didn't seem so bad, unless you knew her. 

"A little help please," Rodney said, holding up his backpack. 

John helped him get it settled, manly refraining from letting his hands linger on Rodney's shoulders. This wasn't the time, and regretfully, it probably never would be. He gave Rodney's pack a firm pat. "Okay, ready."

They made good time back to the gate, but when Ronon dialed the DHD it refused to connect. John smiled tightly and, almost as singe motion, the three of them turned to glare at Rodney. 

Rodney's face turned red. "Oh—you're kidding me. You're going to make me be the one?"

"Seems only fair," John drawled. "It's not like we didn't warn you to hurry. Relax, I'm sure you'll be great at it." He turned to Ronon and Teyla. "Right, guys?" 

"Sure," Ronon agreed. "As long as I don't have to do it, I don't really care how bad you are at it."

"I'm sure you'll do a fine job, Rodney," Teyla said, with an encouraging smile. "Surely, there will be enough dancers that no one will notice if you do not know all the steps."

Rodney sighed loudly, but he let the argument drop. 

With no other recourse, they trudged back to the village. Once there, they were greeted with wide, welcoming smiles, and trays of food and drink.

"Huh, this doesn't seem so bad," Rodney said, picking up a cupcake-thing.

~*~

John leaned back against the soft, colorful cushions placed there for his benefit. As honored guests, the three of them had a ringside view of the dancers. Teyla and Ronon sat next to him quietly passing food and drink between them. Occasionally they'd offer him a taste of something but John refused. He wasn't interested in food. Instead, he kept to careful sips from his single bottle of harvest brew. He had no intention of being distracted when the dancing started.

As the warmth of the day faded with the setting sun, John watched the drummers take their place near the center circle. The natives began gathering around the fire and a few minutes later the drumming began. John's skin prickled and he sat up straight; eyes scanning the perimeter of the dance circle. Rodney would be entering with the rest of the men any minute now. 

The conga line—John couldn't think of it any other way—entered the ring from the shadows. Naked except for the grass skirts and feathered masks they wore, a line of a dozen men made their way towards the dance circle. John squinted against the fire's glow searching for Rodney. His lungs didn't start breathing right until he saw him. Rodney was fine. Clearly pissed off, but fine. 

McKay trailed at the end of the line, but even if John couldn't see his face behind the mask he'd have recognized Rodney's aggravated stomp anywhere. That, and his broad shoulders and pale skin were a dead give-a-way. 

John's mouth went dry the moment he realized that the grass skirts weren't giving a whole hell-of-a-lot of coverage and there was a whole lot of McKay's pale skin flashing in the fire's light. 

This was supposed to be funny. Safe and funny, and something they could joke about later back on Atlantis. Rodney would bitch, and John would tease. Rodney's fair complexion would pinken, and John could look at him fondly without raising anyone's eyebrows. But this—

Breathlessly, he watched as Rodney stomped around the dance circle, ready to—to what? Leap up if Rodney stumbled? Grab him and pull him into the shadows where they'd have the privacy to…. John squashed that thought. 

He was guarding a valuable member of his team. That's all. 

The drumbeat changed and he could see the moment that Rodney began to get into it; hips moving to the beat with surprising grace. The air became too dry to swallow and John gripped his half-empty bottle like a life-line. Taking a drink now would mean taking his eyes off Rodney. Not going to happen. 

He lost track of time. Eventually, the beat changed again to something slow and rhythmic, and the dancers began to sway in place. John's back muscles began to unclench as he realized the dance was almost over. He stood up, more than ready to go get his teammate and haul him back where he belonged. Rodney would just have to change back into his regular clothes later. No hurry. They were stuck here for a few hours yet. 

Just as things were looking right in his world, John froze. 

The man dancing beside Rodney had just brushed his hand along Rodney's bare flank. No way had that been an accident. Rodney removed his mask, and John could see the startled and flushed expression on his face. 

He stared in shock, as instead of moving away, Rodney smiled back at the man. A spike of possessiveness jolted through him and John took an unconcious step forward.

Teyla stretched out a hand to him, "John, you're growling."

He shook her off. "No, I'm not." Probably not. Maybe. Okay fine—yes. God-damn it. He couldn't stand here and do nothing while Rodney was being groped right in front of him. He couldn't shoot the offending asshole either, not without creating a diplomatic incident. "Oh, fuck this."

John strode over to both men wearing a grim expression that he hoped conveyed every bit of outraged anger he was feeling right now. It must have worked because handsy native guy dropped his hands like his skirt was on fire. 

"McKay!" John aggressively elbowed his way in between the two men and glared at Rodney. To his satisfaction, the native backed off, turned, and pushed his way through the gathering crowd until he was out of sight. 

Rodney's eyes were wide in his pale face but he lifted his chin, ready to defy whatever comment John might make. 

"Look, Rodney, I…" Crap. He had no idea how to finish that sentence. Biting his lip John tentatively laid his hand on Rodney's shoulder. He was damned relieved when Rodney didn't just shake it off. Softening his voice, he asked, "You didn't really want to go with that guy, did you?"

Rodney looked down and away, his eyes concealed by the shadow of his eyelashes. A long moment of silence passed between them while John waited for some kind of answer. Finally, after a shuddering breath, Rodney admitted, "No. Not really."

"But?" 

Rodney lifted his head to meet John's eyes. "I blame the firelight. It made his eyes seem…for just a minute they looked the exact same shade of green as yours."

John felt Rodney's shoulder tremble under his hand. That admittance had cost him, and John needed to figure out why. Carefully, he asked, "Are you saying that you wanted him to be me?" 

"Does that idea horrify you?" A grim, thin smile played across Rodney's face, but he didn't look away. Instead, he met John's look head on ready to face the consequences of his confession. 

"I think you and I really need to talk," John said. Something in his face must have given him away because all of a sudden Rodney's entire posture eased. 

With a gentle tug, John hauled Rodney back to his spot next to Ronon and Teyla. 

"You guys good?" Ronon asked. 

John squeezed Rodney's hand. "Yeah, we're good."

"I have spoken with the host of these ceremonies in your absence, John. It seems Rodney did us proud. We may leave at any time with their blessing and an invitation to return." She held out a plate of food and drink to Rodney. "You must have worked up an appetite. I thought you might like to eat first."

"Yes!" Rodney reached for the plate, and John raised his eyebrows. Meat tart in hand, Rodney took a large bite before he looked up and noticed John's expression. "Oh. Um, maybe you guys can pack this stuff up to take with us while I change?"

"I'll bring along extras." Ronon held up his empty bottle. "And more of this."

"An excellent idea, Ronon," Teyla agreed.

Rodney gestured toward the changing tent. "My clothes. I need to get some pants on before it gets any colder."

"Yeah, go ahead. We'll take care of this stuff." Before Rodney could move away John grabbed him by the elbow and quietly husked in his ear, "Just don't forget to bring the grass skirt back with you."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Story Works flash challenge: Harvest Festival


End file.
